


JohnLock x Daughter!Reader: Mum And Dad

by KingOfHearts709



Series: Special [16]
Category: Sherlock - Fandom, johnlock - Fandom
Genre: Cute, Family, Johnlock - Freeform, M/M, Other, daughter - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-12
Updated: 2015-07-12
Packaged: 2018-04-09 01:25:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 1,887
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4328481
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KingOfHearts709/pseuds/KingOfHearts709
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You have to say... You really love your parents.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I thought this fluff was cute, I suppose.  
> Note: I was going to write more, but I stopped. xoxo

You shifted in bed, the sunlight in the window interrupting your sleeping state. You groaned quietly and turned away, only to be met with more sunlight. Where were your dads? You had a feeling one of them took away the curtains to get you out of bed on a Saturday morning, or possibly both. With much effort, you pulled yourself from the warm comforter and shielded your eyes from the brightness. Trudging down the stairs, the smell of coffee and tea filled your nose as you gave a content smile.  
“Dad?” you called as you reached the bottom step into the hallway.  
“Morning, sunshine,” a deep voice returned. You trudged to the kitchen to see your father, Sherlock, at the counter with a mug of tea, presumably for you. You flopped onto one of the chairs and set your head on the table.  
“You took my curtains, dad,” you said in a whiny voice.  
“That I did,” he replied in an almost amused voice.  
“But it’s Saturday!”  
“Don’t give me that, you always get up at noon, and not even that often. It’s nine right now, which is a perfectly good time to be awake.” You heard your other father, John, walk in the room from behind you.  
“Did it work?” he asked Sherlock with a grin, with which you returned a hidden scowl.  
“Yes,” he smirked. “Can’t you see the glare on her face?” John turned to look at you, your eyes closed and small, concentrated breaths coming from your mouth. He set his hand on your forehead and lifted you up, causing a mocked painful groan to come from your throat.  
“Get up, (Y/N),” he said and let your head fall back to the table.  
“I don’t want to,” you muttered.  
“If you do, I might get you something special.”  
“You said that last time.” John sighed and looked to Sherlock, who was still at the counter.  
“Can you please make sure she gets up and about?” he asked before placing a small kiss on his cheek and leaving. You lifted your head for only a moment to see your dad walking out the kitchen.  
“Where’s mum going?” you asked.  
“He’s going to work,” your father replied, as if that was obvious. He turned towards you. “And why do you call him ‘mum’?”  
“Because I can’t address you both as ‘dad’. It’ll just be confusing. So he’s mum and you’re dad.” He shook his head and turned back to grab the tea and set it next to your face.  
“Fifteen years and I’ll never get used to that,” he muttered before going to the couch and flopping on his back to think. You looked at the mug that was close enough to your nose that you could feel the heat radiating off it and smiled. Your mum and dad were the best parents ever.


	2. Chapter 2

"(Y/N), get up," you heard your father, Sherlock, say into your ear. "You have to go to school." You groaned and turned away from him.  
"Sod off, dad," you replied sourly, though you knew it would just cost you your blankets and a pull from the bed. Surely enough, that's what happened.  
"Dad!" you yelled as you thumped on the floor. You turned your face to look at the man, his blue-grey eyes meaning business. You giggled and flopped backwards, closing your eyes as you did so. He sighed and turned to call out your door.  
"John!" he said. "Bring up the bucket!" Your eyes snapped open as you quickly stood up; you didn't want to be soaked in water.  
"Okay, okay, I'm up," you said tiredly. "Get out, I'm going to get dressed." You waved off your dad as you proceeded to rifle through some clothes.  
"I'll know if you've gone back to sleep," he said as he left.  
"Yeah, whatever."  
After you had gotten dressed and brushed your hair and teeth, you headed down the stairs to catch the sight of your parents gradually kissing I'm the kitchen.  
"Get a room, would you?" you snapped at them as you grabbed your school bag from the bottom step, which caused them to break apart reluctantly. It wasn't that it was disturbing, no, it was the fact that you could tease your parents every once in a while. Your 'mum', as you so humourously put it, turned and ran a hand through his blonde hair.  
"Do you have that homework your teacher assigned?" he asked. You nodded and reached into your bag, pulled it out and waved it.  
"All typed and ready," you said proudly.  
"Read it out," your father said, as neither parent had heard what you wrote. You cleared your throat and held up the paper.  
"'My name is (Y/N) Watson Holmes,'" you began. "I live in 221B Baker Street in London. I am fifteen years old and was adopted at birth by the two parents I love most in the world. Sherlock Holmes and John Watson are my dads. Sherlock is a consulting detective that works for Scotland Yard. He is the only one in the world because he invented the job. My mum, John, is a retired army doctor that now works at a hospital. I call him mum so there's no confusion between my parents when I address them. I love my dads, and I would never want anyone else to take care of me like they do.'" You finished, only to be met with a pair of teared up eyes from both of your parents.  
"(Y/N), that was..." John started, but didn't finish. You widened your eyes in worry and guilt.  
"Did I do it wrong?" you asked hurriedly, not wanting your dads to cry. "Was it bad?" They both sniffed in sync, Sherlock shaking his head and John rubbing his eyes.  
"That was beautiful," your father said, and you smiled and ran to them to give them the biggest family hug in the world.


	3. Chapter 3

You trudged home, small tears in your eyes. Your backpack hung loosely from your shoulder as a few raindrops fell onto your head. You reached the house of 221, and quickly wiped away the tears before pushing open the door. Trying your best to avoid Mrs. Hudson, you rushed up the stairs, through 221B and across to the hallway.  
“(Y/N), what’s wrong?” your father asked, but you ignored him. You ran up the stairs and slammed your door behind you, flopping onto your bed. You turned over onto your back and lifted your hand to feel your cheek, which was surely bruised by now. You winced as a pang of pain soared through, a small whimper making its way out of your mouth.  
“(Y/N)?” John’s voice came through as your door slowly opened. You quickly turned away so your back was facing him.  
“Go away,” you said sourly, trying not to cry again.  
“What happened?”  
“Nothing, some kids just teased me. That’s all.” You hated to admit it, but nevertheless, you had to give your mum some sort of explanation.  
“Teased you how? It never bothered you before.” You felt his presence as the weight on the bed next to you became heavier.  
“It’s nothing, just go on.”  
“Let me see your face.”  
“No.”  
“Let me see.  
“No!” His hand grabbed your shoulder, but you kept in place until he firmly flipped you over. Once he caught sight of the purple-ish brown bruise that spread across your cheekbone, his face turned from anger to complete worry.  
“Jesus, what happened?” he asked in a hurried tone as he sat you up. You tried to hold back sobbing, but you couldn’t. Your face scrunched up as you jumped in his arms and cried, soaking his jumper with salty tears.  
“I’m sorry,” you said through sobbing, gripping him even tighter.  
“It’s okay, it’s fine,” your mum soothed, his hand petting your (H/C) hair in comfort. He pulled away and looked at you.  
“What did happen?” he asked.  
“When I read my essay to the class, everyone laughed at me,” you started, small tears making themselves visible as your mind went back to the previous situation. “Some group of stupid people came up to me and told me I was a freak, so I pushed them away. A big guy, he punched me. I just came home after that.” You touched your bruise again, remembering how horrible the pain was. John gave a tight smile and kissed you on the forehead.  
“You, (Y/N), are not a freak,” he said reassuringly, then patted you on the shoulder. “Now, if you come downstairs, I might get you something special.” You laughed and looked at him.  
“You always say that,” you said.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, I remember coming onto this conclusion of Cluedo. xoxo

You picked up your game piece and moved it four spaces.  
“Ha, I landed on a good spot,” you said, and crossed your arms in determination. Your father shook his head and pointed at the space.  
“No, look, this means you lose a turn,” he said as he moved your game piece aside. You scowled as you leaned back on your palms.  
“Fine. Your turn.” Sherlock began to take his turn when John walked into the room, stopping briefly when he caught the sight of you two playing Cluedo.  
“(Y/N), haven’t I told you not to play this with him?” he said as he set whatever bags he had in his hand down.  
“Dad made me,” you said distractedly as you watched Sherlock move his game piece.  
“Sherlock.”  
“I got bored,” he said defensively as he stood up.  
“You can’t just make our daughter play Cluedo with you. You’ll end up trashing it like every other time we played it.”  
“Well, maybe she might understand my logic.”  
“The victim can’t have done it, Sherlock!”  
“Stop following the rules! They are wrong!” You stared as your parents argued about the rules of Cluedo as you stood up slowly and brushed off your jeans.  
“Mum?” you said aloud, but he didn’t seem to hear you. “Mum!” He stopped yelling and turned to look at you.  
“What?” he asked, a little too annoyedly.  
“The victim can do it.” He ran a hand down his face.  
“Not you, too.”  
“Look.” You leaned down to pick up a paper you had written on, a short essay about Cluedo. You handed it to your mum, who looked it over. He closed his eyes when he finished and handed it back to you. He mumbled something about Sherlock and headed off to his bedroom. The door shut and you looked down at your paper.  
“Let me see that,” your father said. You looked at him and handed him the paper. A smirk tugged at the corners of his lips as he finished.  
“What?” you asked.  
“I accept your motive, (Y/N), but what about the weapon?” he said as he looked at you.  
“The only way for the victim to have done it?” you asked, then nodded. “Suicide. In this case, jumping off of a building.” You pressed your hands together, hoping your father would approve of your idea. His expression changed from a grin to a frown, eyes narrowed at you.  
“Not good?” you asked sadly. He blinked and shook his head.  
“No, no,” he reassured. “That’s... that’s correct.” He handed you the paper and went after your mum.  
What was wrong?


End file.
